


Weekend in New Rochelle

by city_bright



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/city_bright/pseuds/city_bright
Summary: Some sort of AU where Mulder takes Scully to Upstate New York for the weekend, and they do cute things, and Scully meets Teena Mulder all while struggling with her growing feelings for Mulder. Set somewhere in s6.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like self-quarantining/social distancing (I'm on Day 10) really does foster creativity!! I had this idea in my mind for quite some time, and inspiration struck today, so here we are! If you are looking for a quarantine fic, this is decidedly not it haha. Hope you like it.

“Scully, it’s me,” the voice on the other end rang out as soon as she picked up the receiver. She can hear him moving about, a flurry of commotion muffled in the background. He’s packing, and she knows it, but she asks him what going on anyway, in hopes that this will be the one time he tells her something different. He does not, but she can dream if nothing else. “Pack your bags, Scully. We have a case in beautiful upstate New York, where you and I have an appointment scheduled to meet a spry, old woman to hear her recount stories of her son going off the deep end after her daughter got abducted by still unknown assailants.”

She glances at her clock. 7 am. She blows air out of her mouth, steeling herself for the 5 plus hour drive. “Fine. I’ll be ready in 30 minutes. And bring coffee.”

“Already on it, Scully. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead, and she groans into her pillow one last time before throwing her legs over the side of her bed and shuffling to the bathroom to get ready. She's dressed and made up in 15 minutes, leaving an extra 15 minutes to check the weather for upstate New York and pack her go-bag accordingly. It's late October, the dead middle of a perfect New England autumn with temperatures in the 50s for the whole week. Regardless of whatever wild goose chase Mulder is bringing her along for, at least the weather will be nice. She's packed and out the door with one minute to spare, and she stands outside her apartment, searching and waiting for a government-issued sedan to come racing down the street. She checks her watch - 7:30 am - and glances up to see a sedan turn the corner onto her street. She can make out Mulder's face in the slight tint of the windshield as the car approaches. Right on time.

She steps off the sidewalk and reaches for the back door handle before tossing her bag into the backseat and taking her place in the passenger seat. Her coffee is at the ready in Mulder's hand as she settles in, and she takes it, her fingers grazing his for the slightest of moments, and drinks a hearty gulp. She hums happily, and she’s glad Mulder has the right mind not to say anything before she took her first sip. “Morning, Scully,” he greets, quickly making their way to the George Washington Parkway.

“Good morning, Mulder. Thanks for the coffee.” She raises the paper cup and takes another sip. “So, upstate New York? How upstate are we talking about here?”

“Never fear, Scully,” he starts, pointedly ignoring the small snort of laughter she lets out, “I am taking you to residential New Rochelle, New York with a population of approximately 70,000 people and almost 3 miles of Long Island Sound shoreline for your seaside pleasure.” He quickly glances her way with a smirk on his lips, like he’s won something for taking her to place with a waterfront.

“New Rochelle in the middle of a perfect New England fall? if I were a betting woman, Mulder, I’d say you have something up your sleeve.” She raises the coffee cup to her lips, hoping to hide the teasing smile forming, and eyes his reaction. He licks his lips and fidgets slightly in his seat that she thinks he’s trying to play off as him getting comfortable, but it’s a nervous tick of his. And she somehow just noticed that he’s not wearing a suit, but jeans and a sweater underneath his heavier jacket. Now she’s the nervous one. “Mulder,” she admonishes, setting her coffee back in its right place in the cupholder, lest she drops it after whatever bombshell Mulder is planning on dropping her in this car. He recovers quickly, but that slight slip of his demeanor worries her. “Where are you taking me?”

“Scully, it hurts me,” he raises a hand to his chest for the further effect of feigned wounded shock, “that you doubt me. Honest, I’m taking you to New Rochelle. No games.”

She raises her eyebrow and offers him a short hum of indignant acceptance. _We’ll see,_ she thinks, _we’ll see._

Nearly six hours later, they pull up to the driveway of a beautiful two-story house that looks like it came out a brochure. The front porch spans the width of the house with two chairs on either side of the front door, which is painted a beautiful deep red. A large oak tree stands proud and tall to the right side of the house, branches framing the top of the house like a painting. Scully is seriously considering a lifestyle change to even afford a house like this, which she, no doubt, knows costs a pretty penny. While she admires and stares at the house, she doesn't even register that Mulder has both of their bags in his hands until they start walking up the paved pathway to the front door.

“Mulder?” he remains silent, striding closer to the door. “Whose house is this? We’re not staying here, are we?” He drops the bags at his feet to fish out his keys.

“Umm,” he stalls with an embarrassed chuckle, inserting the key into the lock and twisting it counterclockwise twice until he hears the lock give way. He opens the door, bends down slightly to pick up their bags, and takes a tentative step inside. She has a hand on her holster, just in case, because despite being in abnormal situations 95% of the time, this is a different kind of weird, even for them. Before she could even unbutton the leather strap holding her gun in place, she hears someone call his name from the top of the steps.

“Oh, Fox!” Scully's eyes go wide in shock, and she looks at Mulder, pleading for answers on their exact whereabouts. And then she hears it.

“Hi, Mom.”

She turns around to face the street to hide the shock on her face, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. _That bastard._ She fucking knew it. She mutters oh my god approximately twelve times under her breath before turning back around to see Mulder and his mother in an embrace. Scully plasters on a polite smile on her face at the exact moment his mom opens her eyes and sees her over his shoulder.

“Oh, how rude of me,” she apologizes, stepping away from Mulder to introduce herself. “Hi, Teena. So lovely to meet you.”

“Uh, hello,” she manages to choke out, taking Teena’s proffered hand to shake.

“Mom, this is Scully. Scully, my mom.”

“Ah, the infamous Scully. I've heard a lot about you.”

She catches the twinkle in her eye and wonders what exactly Mulder has told his mother about her. She chuckles uncomfortably. “All good things, I hope. Please, call me Dana.”

Teena looks at Mulder for guidance. Scully imagines that whatever Mulder has told his mother, “Dana” wasn't part of the equation. Mulder smiles, and Teena releases her hand. “Well, Dana, come on in from the cold. I’ll make you a cup of tea.” She smiles at them both before turning away to the kitchen. Mulder closes the door, and when Scully is sure Teena is out of earshot, she gives Mulder a hard pinch on his arm. He jumps slightly and yelps, rubbing his arm.

“You brought me to your mother’s house?! Mulder, I cannot even begin to fathom how inappropriate this is. You _lied_ to me.”

“I didn’t exactly lie to you. I just… wasn't very specific, but we are in New Rochelle!” he says excitedly as if being in the same exact city as he intended them to be was enough to make it better. “And we _are_ meeting a spry, old woman - my mother - to talk about her son going off the deep end - me - after her daughter - Samantha - got abducted!”

“Oh, my god." This man really is something else. "I can’t believe this.”

“Come on, we don't have time for this. My mother is going to wonder where we are.” He walks down the hallway and makes a right at the doorway, and she hears them chatting away. She takes a deep breath to calm herself because she’s in it now, and she can’t leave now. She turns the corner to the kitchen, and Teena is already fixing Mulder a plate of food while he gathers mugs and tea bags for them.

“Grab a seat, Dana. I’m just heating up some food for you. I’m sure you’re famished from the long drive from Washington.”

“Oh, you don’t-“ she begins to protest, but Teena isn’t having it.

“Nonsense. It’s no trouble.”

“Thank you.” She takes a seat at the short end of the rectangular kitchen island, which has a beautiful gray marble countertop, facing the stainless steel refrigerator. The counter begins to its right, forming an L shape that ends at the exact same point as the island. The kitchen isn’t too big or too small, just cozy enough, and it reminds her of home. “You have a beautiful house, Mrs. Mulder.”

“Please call me Teena, dear. Mrs. Mulder makes me feel old,” she says with a laugh. “Fox, would you mind getting some utensils?” He follows his mother’s instructions, and Scully smiles. She wishes Mulder would listen to her like that. It’d save her a lot of trouble and a lot of headaches. “I’ve had this house for over 30 years. We used to come here every so often, but never lived in it, long term, of course, but after my husband passed away, I figured it was time.”

“Jasmine tea still your favorite, Scully?”

“Hm, yes, please.” Mulder places a white mug with a single tea bag in front of her before taking the kettle off the stove to pour into her mug. He asks if she wants honey with her tea, and she shakes her head. “Thanks.” He repeats the same for him and takes a seat next to her at the same time Teena announces the food is ready.

“Hope you like roasted chicken with potatoes and green beans because that’s what you’re going to get,” she offers with a smile.

“Smells delicious, Mom.” Mulder digs right in with zero decorum, and it makes her smile to see him so comfortable and at ease because his day to day is anything but. But being with one’s family always brings that out in people.

“Dana, forgive me, but I wasn’t expecting you to come by. I love the company, and quite frankly, Fox was never one to bring home women - couldn’t really get them, you know - but what brings you here?”

“Mom!”

Scully laughs despite herself at the ease with which his mother embarrasses him. Plus, seeing Mulder blush like a child is something she’ll never forget. “Teena, I have to be honest with you, but I’m not sure why I’m here either. Mulder called me this morning at 7 am, told me to pack my bags, and here we are.” She turns to face Mulder with a smirk on her face, ready to take on revenge for bringing her here unannounced. “Mulder, care to share with your mother and me why I’m here?”

He chokes on his food and gulps down his tea, presumably to buy him some time before subjecting himself to interrogation, but what comes out of his mouth is refreshingly honest and quite unlike him that she can’t help but let him off the hook. Well, not entirely, she does have a reputation to uphold here.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I thought it’d be a nice change of scenery. We never go anywhere without a case being the catalyst, and I was coming to see my mom anyway, and I thought you might like it here.”

She cracks a smile, but not before giving him an eye roll because, reputation, and turns back to his mother. “There you have it.”

“Well, Fox, it looks like the problem still persists." Scully's eyebrow dances up, wondering what problem she's referring to, but she doesn't have to wonder for long. "How do you expect to find a wife if you just whisk people away without explanation, tsk. I raised you better than that, Fox Mulder.”

“Mom!” Scully snickers in the background. She is going to thoroughly enjoy this trip if Teena was going to consistently provide humor by way of embarrassing and teasing Mulder. “Oh, stop it, Scully.”

“Oh, I’m not doing anything,” she insists, sipping her tea, loving the situation unfold right in front of her.

“I’m telling you, Fox,” Teena chides one last time before rinsing off her cleared plate in the sink. Mulder turns to Scully in hopes she would back him up on this, but she refuses and instead mouths _listen to your mother_ to him. Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “I’m not getting any younger, and you’re my only hope for grandkids.” Teena comes around to pinch his cheeks, letting him know that her words are only in jest, but Scully imagines there’s weighted truth in it that Mulder carries with him. “Take as much time as you need, but you two finish up in here. Holler if you need me, and Fox, I take it that you’ll be a good host and show your guest around?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Teena accepts with a nod. “Dana, again, lovely to meet you, and please reach out for anything you may need.”

“I will, thank you.” Scully watches his mother walk away, and once she’s out of sight, she turns to Mulder with a bemused smile on her face. “Mulder, if I had known your mother was such a firecracker, I would have asked you to introduce us much earlier on in our partnership.”

“You’re just pulling my ear.” He stands to go rinse his plate at the sink. “That was embarrassing.”

Scully follows with her plate and stands next to him. “Well, I thoroughly enjoyed it.” He huffs, and she can’t help but laugh. “You deserved it, Mulder. What did you expect when you bring me here unannounced?” He doesn’t respond, so she decides to drop it and tug on his elbow. “Come on, I was promised a house tour.”

She leads them back to the foyer where Mulder grabs their bags before starting the tour. To the left of the entrance is the living room, where a charcoal gray sectional couch lies firmly in the center of the room, facing the tv precariously propped above the brick fireplace. To the right is the dining room which leads out to a sunroom, decorated with ocean-themed items and wicker furniture, no doubt a nod to his Martha’s Vineyard upbringing. The dining room also connects to the kitchen they were just in.

Mulder takes them up the stairs and leads them to the end of the hall, pointing out the guest bathroom along the way. He opens the door to his childhood room which has since been upgraded to a more adult version - the twin-sized bed is long gone and has been replaced with a queen. Opposite the bed is a six drawer dresser with a tv adorned on top. There are a small wooden bedside table and a white desk in the corner of the room, facing the window, which looks out to the backyard.

Scully looks out the window to see a small allotment garden in the back corner, stems, and greenery of all kinds starting to peak up from the soil. Mulder drops both of their bags next to the door, and she whisks away the thought of them potentially sharing this room and this bed for the undetermined amount of time they will be staying here.

“Come on, I’ll show you the back.” He walks away, not waiting for her to follow, and leads them back downstairs. Turning the corner, they walk down the same hallway towards the kitchen but pass it to reach the back door. There’s a handful of steps leading down to the grass, and the yard is much bigger than she had thought. Mulder points out the garden in the right-hand corner, listing out the different vegetables and fruits his mother has started to grow since his father’s passing. He shrugs, not having anything further to point out. The backyard is pretty barren, except for the garden and some orange leaves from the neighboring trees.

“This place is beautiful, Mulder.”

He raises his shoulders again. “Yeah, it was nice. I could probably count the number of times my parents brought us here on one hand. We used to play in the snow, had a barbecue one year. It was nice,” he repeats.

As beautiful and wonderful as this place is, she still doesn't understand why she's here, and she isn’t sure if she could overlook that. She has to ask. “Why’d you bring me here, Mulder?”

“I meant what I said earlier, but-,” he looks down, using the toe of his boot to dig at the earth, “I just wanted to say thank you, I guess. You put up with me a lot, and I thought you, and me to a certain extent, could benefit from a break. I hope you're not upset.”

“I wish you would have told me _not_ under the guise of a case, but,” she sighs, “no, I’m not upset. This was really thoughtful, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Scully.”

“How long did you plan for us to be here?”

“I was thinking about leaving after lunch on Sunday, so we’ll get back to DC that night, but we can leave earlier if you want.”

She does the mental calculations. It’s Friday afternoon now, so they’ll be here for the weekend. A true weekend trip if she’s ever seen one. She thinks about what she has packed, and she could very well manage with what she brought, but accepting and agreeing to this trip seems like a step for them. In what direction, good or bad, she doesn’t know because he didn’t take her just anywhere. He purposefully chose to bring her here to meet his mother and show her a part of his past. It feels weighted with emotion and too much vulnerability for her to understand at the moment, but there’s a pinprick in her mind telling her to take this leap and see what lies at the bottom.

“No, Sunday is great.” Mulder smiles brightly like a kid on Christmas morning, getting exactly what he wished for, and it tugs at her heart. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and motions them back into the house before dropping it and letting a hand rest on her back as they walk up the steps.

“I’m going to grab my bag and stay in the guest room, so you can take my room. I’m sure you want some time to yourself, so you’re welcome to freshen up or take a nap or read. There’s a small library down the hall from my room. I’m going to help my mom with dinner, which should be ready at 6 pm sharp. Teena Mulder is a stickler for dinner at 6 pm, so don’t be late,” he says with a wink.

“I’m happy to help out with dinner, Mulder.”

“No, please don’t. One word of that to my mother, and she’ll be on my case for forcing our guests to cook their own dinner and being a bad host. And I already had a handful of that at lunch, so don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”

She chuckles at that, remembering the way Teena poked fun at him. “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you at dinner then. 6 pm, don’t forget. My mom will shun anyone who’s late to dinner. I’m warning you now, Scully.”

“6 pm, got it. Thank you, Mulder. And I mean it. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” They share a knowing smile, and Scully has to look away because she forgets that his hazel-green eyes can have the intensity of a thousand sun sometimes. “See you later, Scully.” With that, he closes the door to his, and now her, room, and she’s left with a nagging feeling that this weekend will push her out of her comfort zone.


	2. Chapter 2

Deciding not to worry any further, she digs through her duffle bag to retrieve her pajamas, hoping a short nap will help ease her nerves. She changes from her pantsuit into her matching pajama set in the room, and she can’t help but shudder at the thought she’s changing in Mulder’s room. And will be sleeping in his bed. It’s irrational because he didn’t grow up here, at least not really, so it’s not like they’re at his true childhood home on Martha’s Vineyard. But the chills on her body can’t tell the difference between the two, and this feels very intimate.

She neatly folds her clothes and places it on top of the dresser to change back into later before setting an alarm for 5:30 pm and slipping under the covers. The bed is plush, the comforter is thick and warm, and the pillows somehow smell like him, and her senses are overwhelmed. But she’s so comfortable that she easily drifts to sleep without another thought. 

She wakes to the sound of her alarm, and she opens her eyes and remembers where she is and what she’s doing here. Scully lets out a sigh as she rolls onto her back, fanning out her limbs across the bed, seeking the cooler sheets, and stares at the ceiling for a moment. She attempts to devise a plan for this weekend because she's been increasingly catching herself wanting him in ways that terrify her. She doesn't know how the tides turned on her so quickly, but all of sudden, she looked up one day and saw him studying a file, pencil eraser in-between his lips, and that was it. Since then, she's been trying to keep him at a respectable distance, but he makes it difficult whenever he gets close or places a hand on her back. She sighs, abandoning the plan, and hopes she doesn’t get too swept up in her emotions because she has a professional partnership to maintain after all.

It’s 5:40 pm by the time she gets out of bed, and she takes her clothes and toiletry bag with her to the bathroom down the hall. She’s halfway to the bathroom when Mulder takes the final step at the top landing of the stairs, and she pretends not to notice the way his eyes sweep up and down her body, no doubt committing this to his memory.

“Hey, Scully,” he greets, a playful smile threatening to emerge. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah. Just what I needed, thanks. I’m just freshening up again for dinner,” she explains, holding up her toiletry bag for proof. “Can’t be late.”

“No,” he chuckles, “well, I’ll leave you to it. I was just coming up to check on you. Meet you in the kitchen?”

She nods in agreement, which was enough for him to turn around and head back downstairs. She breathes a sigh of relief and practically runs the rest of the way to the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind her. She can’t shake the way his eyes roamed her body, lips curling up into a smirk like he liked what he saw. Has Mulder ever looked at her that way before? Maybe she imagined it. Gosh, has it been so long since she's been attracted to someone that she's forgotten how to act? She needs to get a grip and stop acting like a teenager. He's just her partner from the FBI, nothing more, nothing less, she reminds herself. 

She changes back into her daytime clothes and curls her eyelashes again, sweeping on a couple of coats of mascara to liven up her still sleep-addled eyes. She returns her pajamas to the room and begins to head downstairs for dinner, carefully trying not to make too much noise with her heeled shoes against the wooden stairs. Scully can hear Mulder and Teena in hushed conversation, and she thinks she heard her name in there a couple of times, but she can’t be sure. She walks with a purpose now, announcing her pending arrival and hopefully sparing any awkward glances. 

“I’m not late for dinner, am I?” Two pairs of the same exact eyes land on her, and she feels awkward from the attention but offers a smile.

“Not at all, right on time,” Mulder reassures, before turning to his mother. “She’s always on time, so you won’t get to kick anyone out this time.”

“I hope you haven’t been spreading rumors about me, Fox. I would never turn away a guest from dinner.”

“Of course not.” Mulder turns back to Scully once Teena’s back is turned and quickly shakes his head.

Scully smiles at his attempt to keep it light and takes a seat at the table. “Thank you for even having me for dinner, Teena. It’s very kind of you, and I hope I can return the favor some time.”

“You keep my son out of trouble, so consider us even. Who knew Fox would be such a fitting name? Mischievous little things,” she mutters under her breath.

“I’ll continue to make sure of it, don’t worry.” She spots Mulder in the corner of her eye, and the smile on his face tells her that he has no problem with that. 

Teena serves dinner without further comment, presenting pan-fried filets of white fish with lemon wedges on the side, bowls of rice, and a platter of roasted broccoli. Mulder takes Scully’s plate without batting an eye and serves her a hearty plate before tending to his mother and then himself. 

Dinner is delicious, and the conversation is pleasant. They talk about his childhood, with promises from Teena that she’ll show her Mulder’s baby pictures before the weekend ends, much to Mulder’s chagrin. Teena asks about her and her family and not so subtlety asks if she has a nice boyfriend or husband in her life. Mulder nearly chokes on his food for the second time that day and warns his mother how inappropriate that question is. Scully waves him away with a hand and confirms that she does not. Teena’s eye flicker with recognition, something clicking into place, but it’s gone as quickly as it came that Scully isn’t sure if she saw it at all.

As dinner continues, Scully can see where Mulder gets his playfulness. Teena is sharp as a tack, and seeing her relationship with Mulder eases a lot of Scully’s worries. He's experienced a lot of trauma and stressful moments in his life, and Mulder can get so obsessed with work and conspiracies that it leaves little room for much of anything else, so knowing that he still his mother is comforting.

When everyone’s plates are clean, too full to eat more, Scully and Mulder insist on washing the dishes, giving Teena a much-deserved break. She accepts gracefully and is nearly out of the room until she turns back around, seemingly forgetting one last thing. “I have some errands to run tomorrow, so I’ll be out of your hair for much of the day, but you two help yourself to whatever you need. Fox, you know how to reach me if anything comes up.” Mulder hums in the affirmative. “Good night, Dana.”

“Good night, Teena, thank you again for dinner.” 

“Of course.”

Scully begins to collect the empty plates and dirty utensils from the table to get started on the dishes. Mulder quickly joins in, collecting the remaining dinnerware, and she can feel his eyes on her, presumably gauging how she felt about dinner with his mother. She beats him to the punch. 

“Your mother is a clever woman. I like her." She sets the dishes in the sink and begins to rinse each item before lathering a sponge with soap.

“She’s not an easy woman to please, but I think she likes you too.” Mulder joins her at her side, ready to rinse the suds off the dishes and then onto the rack to dry.

“I don’t think the bar is very high if it’s true that I’m the only woman you brought home,” she smirks. 

“Well, no one was really worth bringing home, so I’d say the bar is fairly high. And you’re not very tall either, so you managed well, Scully,” he laughs. 

“Hey! No making fun of the guest. It’s not becoming.” He laughs even harder at that, and she starts to laugh with him. When their laughter tapers off, she can't bring herself to remember a time when she felt so happy. It's really nice to wash dishes and joke around with someone, but especially with him. She rarely gets these moments in her everyday life that she's almost forgotten what it was like to feel so at ease until now. But with happiness comes melancholy because, as she stated earlier this evening, she doesn’t have that someone in her life, and domestic moments like this make it glaringly obvious to her. She really only has Mulder, and that excites her as much as it saddens her.

Mulder must have sensed a shift in her mood because he’s now apologizing. “Hey,” he says softly with a nudge of his hip to hers, “I’m sorry about my mom earlier, asking you about your personal life like that.”

Scully shakes her head, hoping he doesn’t know how affected she is by this topic. “Mulder, there’s no need to apologize. It was a perfectly reasonable question to ask.”

“I know, but-“

“Mulder, it’s okay.” She hands him the last plate and looks at him in earnest, drying her hands on a towel. “Really,” she smiles, placing a hand on his arm for reassurance. “I appreciate your concern. I’m going to go upstairs to change, okay?” She turns around and heads for the stairs, not waiting for his response, and she can hear him murmur _of course_ behind her.

She feels a little bad for leaving Mulder in the lurch like that, but she couldn’t stand there any longer without feeling like she failed herself in some way. She had always imagined the kind of life where she has a loving husband, a two-story house, and a couple of kids, but she wonders if it's too late for her now, if she missed an opportunity somewhere along the way. She doesn't regret pursuing a career in medicine and taking this job in the FBI - she wouldn't change it for the world - but being in that moment hit too close to home because it was yet another reminder of what she's missing and perhaps lost in her life. 

Over the past couple of years, her mind has wandered to that forbidden place of what life would be like if Mulder was the person she shared her life with. It’s not hard to do when he has saved her life a million times over and been there for her in ways no one else has. And he is the only person in the world who understands what they've been through and what they know, but laughing with him in the kitchen, standing hip to hip, and washing the dishes was a lot more fulfilling and comforting than she expected. And it’s scary. She doesn't want to find out what that might mean and come face to face with her feelings. 

Three knocks on her door pulls her out of her train of thought. She buttons the last button of her pajama top and opens the door to find Mulder also dressed in his pajamas - a white t-shirt with heather gray sweatpants. “Hey, it’s only 8 pm, and I was wondering if you wanted to watch some tv or a movie with me? I have alcohol and ice cream to bribe you with.”

He flashes a boyish smile, and she’s thankful that his first question wasn’t to ask how she was doing. If he really noticed her change in demeanor earlier in the kitchen, then he knows her well enough to leave it alone, so she accepts his offer and follows him to the kitchen.

Mulder opens the fridge to inspect its contents. “We have some light beer and red wine. Looks like a Pinot.” He opens the freezer next. “And for ice cream, we have classic vanilla, and if you’re feeling particularly adventurous today, Cherry Garcia from Ben & Jerry’s.” He manages to hold all of the offerings of alcohol and frozen dessert in his arms, and he’s looking at her expectedly, patiently waiting for her to make her selection. She can’t help but smile at the thought that he might be trying to make her feel better with her favorite things. 

She makes a show of thinking about it, carefully eyeing the options and tapping a finger to her chin, just to torture him a little bit. “Red wine and Cherry Garcia, please,” she finally decides.

“Yes! Good choice, Scully.” He returns the vanilla ice cream back into the freezer and places the pint of Ben & Jerry’s on the counter before grabbing two spoons. She gets a head start and sinks her spoon into the creamy dessert while he uncorks the wine and pours a generous glass for her. He turns around to find her mid-bite. “Hey! No fair.”

“’s so good, I’m not even sorry.”

He sets down her wine with a shake of his head, not evening fighting it because it’ll be no use. He puts the wine bottle back in the fridge and takes a beer for himself, unscrewing the top with a hiss. “Shall we?”

Picking up her wine glass and keeping the ice cream in her possession, she heads to the living room and settles in while Mulder grabs the remote and turns on the tv, immediately going to the TV Guide channel to see this evening’s programming. 

“What are we feeling tonight, Scully?” he asks, scanning the screen with his eyes. “A Bug’s Life? Ooh, When Harry Met Sally? Classic New York movie. Seems fitting, no?”

“A Bug’s Life, Mulder?” she questions with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a classic!” he exclaims, flipping to the channel where the movie is just about to begin. “Flik reminds me of myself, you know? No one really likes him or is his friend, except for Dot. He’s always causing trouble and is an embarrassment to the colony.” He raises the beer bottle to his lips, stopping just a couple of inches away. “Sound familiar, Scully?” He takes a pull from the bottle, still looking at her, and she thinks he’s doing this purposefully to direct her attention to his lips and get a reaction out of her. She looks down at her ice cream, scooping another spoonful.

“Mmm, yeah, it does sound like you.” Her eyes flick to the screen, picking up her wine glass to take a sip. “You look like him too.”

“Okay, give me that.” He steals the pint of ice cream out of her hands. “Uncalled for, Scully.” 

“Hey, you’re eating all the ice cream!”

“You got a head start, so you’re in no place to complain.”

“Hmph.” She settles back into the couch with a huff, watching him smugly eat her rightful ice cream. He relinquishes his hold with a sigh after a few minutes and scoots closer to her, so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder. He offers the ice cream back to her, and she places a hand on the container to steady it as she digs into the dessert. Her hand is touching his, and she pretends like it’s a normal occurrence, but she can tell that he’s looking at their hands out of her peripheral vision. She releases the carton and returns her attention to the movie where the pile of food is beginning to topple over into the water.

They watch the movie in comfortable silence, each laughing and making comments here and there. They finish their respective drinks, and the ice cream is long gone by the time the movie ends, and Mulder turns off the tv.

“Dot and Princess Atta remind me of you,” he says without prompting as he clears the coffee table.

“Hm? How so?”

“Well,” he begins, walking to the kitchen. “Dot has been Flik’s friend since the beginning, believing in him when no one else did. She went to Bug City with him, leaving her friends and family behind. And Princess Atta always wants to do the right thing, and she makes sure everything goes to plan. Flik is a lucky ant guy,” he admits.

Scully tosses the empty ice cream carton into the trash, thankful that its location allows her to turn away from him, so she can panic in relative peace. Mulder isn’t usually one to be so forthcoming about his feelings - one thing she has in common with him - so on the rare occasions that he is, she knows he means it. She turns around with a smile and starts heading upstairs.

“Hm, that he is. Dot and Princess Atta are pretty lucky too. Flik has good intentions and only wants what’s best for the greater colony, even if he messes up sometimes.” She raises a hand to scratch above her eyebrow in slight disbelief they’re comparing each other to animated ants from a Pixar movie as a roundabout way of disclosing how they really feel about each other, but it's on par for the course. They can never seem to be direct with each other about their personal feelings.

They reach her room, and it’s time to say good night. “Thanks for the ice cream and movie, Mulder. I had fun.”

“Me too. We can do it again tomorrow night if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

He smiles, indicating that he’d very much like it too. “Good night, Scully.” He bends down to give her a kiss on the cheek before retiring to his own room. She quietly closes the door and turns around to lean against it, exhaling sharply. Her heart is beating loudly against her chest, and she feels like she just came home from a first date. 


	3. Chapter 3

Scully wakes up the next morning to the faint smell of coffee, giving her more than enough reason to get out of bed. The clock flashes 9:32 am at her, and she grabs her toiletry bag and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and tame whatever bedhead she has going on. After deciding she looks fairly presentable, she follows the scent of coffee and finds Mulder in the kitchen preparing breakfast. There are two place settings at the kitchen island, two mugs at the ready for coffee. She can hear the bacon sizzling in the pan, and she spies a plate with two slices of bread and a bowl of whisked eggs on the counter as she approaches Mulder at the stove.

“Morning, Mulder. What’s all this?”

He jumps and huffs a breath in surprise. “You’re like a cat, Scully. I’m making breakfast! Grab a seat, it’s almost ready.” He transfers the crispy bacon to a plate and hands it to Scully to take to the island. He places the two slices of bread into the toaster and then immediately pours the whisked eggs into the same pan he cooked the bacon in, swirling the eggs around until the bread springs from the toaster. He scoops the eggs onto another plate, placing the light brown toast on the side, and takes a seat beside her.

“Breakfast is served!” he announces proudly. “Dig in, Scully. Oh, coffee. Can’t forget about that.” He rises to retrieve the coffee pot and pours a generous cup for them both before getting a small container of cream from the refrigerator.

“This looks great, Mulder,” she compliments, spearing a torn piece of bacon with her eggs. “I didn’t know you can cook.”

“Nothing fancy. I also just choose not to. We’re always on the road anyway, and cooking for one is kind of depressing,” he shrugs, putting a large forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Butter or jam for your toast, Scully?” he asks, the words still muffled by the food in his mouth.

She shakes her head. “No, this is perfect, thank you.” After a few minutes of eating in silence, she asks, ”So, what do you have planned for us today?”

“What makes you think I have something planned?” He takes a bite of toast, tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth to lick away the crumbs, eyes crinkling in jest.

“You planned this trip without inviting, consulting, or even informing me until we got here, so you should have assumed the default responsibility of creating the itinerary. Ergo, Mulder, what do you have planned?” she repeats.

“Ergo, huh?” He says with a chuckle, shaking his head and tossing a napkin onto his now empty plate. “Well, Agent Scully, lucky for you, your partner is full of ideas. I went to the local deli this morning and picked a very fine selection of cheeses and cured meats. Don’t look so skeptical yet, Scully. I bought a loaf of freshly baked bread and a small side of pasta shells, and,” he leans in closer, voice dropping down to a whisper, “limoncello, but don’t tell my mother.”

Scully snorts, but motions for him to continue anyway.

“The sandwich is already made. It’s being pressed down by the weight of two cast irons, courtesy of one Teena Mulder, for ultimate sandwich bite-ability,” he finishes with a flourish of his hand.

Scully purses her lips at the legitimacy of the word “bite-ability,” but presses on. “Sounds like you had a busy morning, Mulder, but that still doesn’t answer the question of what we’re doing today.”

“We’re going on a picnic to Davenport Park!” he reveals excitedly. “And then we need to go grocery shopping and cook dinner for my mom because I promised her, but-” he finishes quickly with a wave of dismissal.

She nods in approval. “That sounds fun, Mulder.”

“Really? Okay,” he smiles, excitedly jumping off his stool to start cleaning up, “I think we can leave in about an hour if that’s alright with you?”

“Perfect. I’ll start getting ready,” she decides, wiping her mouth with a napkin as she stands. She doesn’t get a chance to even pick up her plate because Mulder beats her to it and tells her he’ll clean up. She goes back upstairs to take a shower and get ready, and by the time she returns downstairs, dressed and ready to go, Mulder is already waiting for her in the living room. Together, they pack the picnic basket and blankets into the car and begin the 15-minute drive to the park.

“Have you ever been to Upstate New York, Scully?” he prompts, cracking a sunflower seed in-between his teeth.

“No, I can’t say that I have, but it’s as exactly as I expected.”

“Which is?”

“It’s stereotypical, but white picket fences, two-story family houses, small-town feel where everyone knows each other, crisp orange leaves crunching underneath your foot. Apple picking at an orchard, kids playing soccer in the park.”

He hums in agreement. After a couple of minutes of silence, Mulder speaks again. “I can see you in a town like this, with a couple of uber-Scullies running around,” he grins, a nod to conversations on a bench once upon a time.

She can imagine it herself and agrees that a town like this would be a nice place to settle down and get away from conspiracy theories, lights in the sky, and things that go bump in the night. “I suppose,” she replies.

“I can imagine you opening the door to the back porch that leads to a massive yard, yelling at your kids to stop playing in the leaves and come inside to get ready for dinner. And you’d drive a Volvo, like all the soccer moms in town, but you, Dana Scully, are not a soccer mom because _your_ kids are playing t-ball in the park.” He states it so matter of factly, and the pang in her heart makes her wish she had the strength of his beliefs sometimes because as much as he paints a nice picture, she’s pretty certain that the opportunity for that kind of life is long gone.

“Sounds like you’ve thought an awful lot about it.”

He simply shrugs, cracking another sunflower seed. He turns left into the parking lot and parks the car, unlocking the doors to grab their items from the backseat. They walk in silence across the grass until they reach a pair of trees near the shoreline. Once Mulder lays out the blanket for them, they sit and unpack their food, and Scully eyes a few additional items he didn’t mention this morning, including two bags of chips, some fruit, and cookies.

“You really were busy this morning, Mulder. This is quite the spread.”

“I had a lot of time on my hands,” he admits, handing her napkins, a plate, and utensils. Her eyes catch his in question. “Couldn’t sleep.” He hands her an individually wrapped sandwich and knocks his own against hers. “Cheers.”

They each take a bite, and Scully nods in approval. “This is delicious, Mulder. What’s in it?”

“Mmm, fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, tomatoes, pesto on one side of the bread, mayo on the other. Something else called soppressata, I think? I left the selections to the professionals, to be honest. Good?”

“Very good.” She takes another bite and sighs in contentment as she looks out to the water. Families are strolling along the pathway, the autumn air is crisp, and the cold breeze makes her nose cold and runny, but she’s bundled up in a turtleneck sweater and a wool coat, and she’s never been warmer.

She sneaks a glance over to Mulder, and he has his knees to his chest, arms resting on his knees, and he’s looking at the water as well. His hair is windswept, tendrils falling against his forehead, and he makes no move to put them back in place. She returns her attention to the water, and they finish their sandwiches in comfortable silence. Scully tosses the wrapper into an empty bag and mirrors Mulder’s body, pulling her legs closer to herself to shield against the wind.

Scully feels him move against her left arm as he shifts his body to retrieve the cookies from the basket behind them, offering her one of the two, which she takes. “What’s on your mind, Scully?”

She looks at him then and wonders how much she should reveal. She told herself last night not to get too caught up in her emotions, but there’s something about being here with him that makes it much more difficult to compartmentalize than usual. But she reins it in, looks away, and settles on “nothing.”

His head drops slightly, likely in disappointment, she thinks, not expecting her to say more, but hoping that she would, just this one time. He oftentimes tries to get her to open up more to him, but she can’t because once she does, there’s no going back.

She takes the bite of the cookie and relishes the smooth chocolate against her tongue. “This was unexpectedly nice, Mulder,” she offers.

“Do you usually expect not nice things from me, Scully?” he quips, baiting her for a teasing argument.

“You do have a habit of getting us into some unsavory situations, so I do have to prepare for all possibilities. But being here, I forget that this is normal, and people actually do things like this.”

“Because what we do is so abnormal?” Scully nods and looks over her shoulder at him. “Mm, as my mother tells me all the time,” he chuckles mirthlessly.

“Is she supportive of the x files?”

“Supportive is a strong word to describe her feelings towards it, but she understands why I do it. Why we do it,” he corrects. “But I think she had hoped I would’ve given up and moved on by now. And settled down as well, to be honest, “ he lightly chuckles again. "She tells me every year I visit, and she’s already brought it up three times during this trip.”

“I’m sure she still appreciates you still looking for your sister, fighting for the truth,” she comforts. “You mentioned that you would live in a small town like Home, Pennsylvania, minus the incest of course,” she shudders at the thought, “but would you live in a place like this? Not quite a big city, but not quite in the middle of nowhere either?”

He looks at her more closely, studying her face, eyes wandering, searching for something. She wonders what he finds, if anything at all, when he says, “For the right person, I would.”

She returns her gaze to the water because the sunlight is making his eyes appear more intense than usual. A gust of wind quickly sweeps through, and she can feel Mulder’s fingers gently taming a lock of hair that got picked up from the breeze. She shivers, and she tells herself it’s from the wind.

“Still looking to drink that limoncello?”

“Ah, Scully, I thought you’d never ask.” He reaches behind him to get the limoncello bottle and two cups, handing one to her, and then filling the cups. He takes a sip and exhales sharply, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth at its tartness.

Mulder and Scully continue to eat through their picnic basket and are close to finishing the bottle of limoncello before Scully suggests walking around the park to let the alcohol wear off. They pack up their things, tossing away the wrappers to a nearby trash can, and begin to walk at a leisurely pace, following the paved pathway. The air between them is much lighter, and Mulder bumps against her shoulder often, his arm swishing against hers, and she attributes it to the alcohol, but she doesn’t mind.

The breeze makes a reappearance, tussling his hair yet again, and it makes him look years younger, even more so when he skips rocks into the water. He spots a piece of dry wood in the distance and jokes about the Loch Ness Monster residing in Long Island Sound, which quickly turns into a full-blown explanation of its mythology. It’s the first time in the past two days that he mentions anything remotely related to the paranormal and the like, so she allows it, feeling more at ease with a neutral topic. 

Once they feel sober enough to drive, they start their journey to the local grocery store to pick up some items for dinner, including an extra pint of ice cream for their movie night. The drive is easy, and the temperature has picked up slightly, so the car windows are cracked open, blowing wind across the tops of their heads. Mulder looks at her at the same time she picks up a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she turns to offer him a small smile. He returns the smile, his eyes lingering on hers, and it feels borderline dangerous to have his eyes off the road for this amount of time. She’s thankful that they’re only going 20 miles per hour when she turns away to look at the quiet, empty road ahead and catches the red light they just drove through.

They return to the house to find Teena in the living room, organizing some photo albums, and she motions Scully over, so she can deliver on her promise to show her Mulder’s baby pictures.

“Oh, boy,” Mulder mutters, retreating to the kitchen to put away the groceries, but also to avoid the embarrassment that will surely be inflicted upon him.

Teena makes room for Scully on the couch, and she takes a seat, eyes scanning the various photographs of Mulder and his family scattered across the table. A bubbly laugh escapes her as she lands on a photo of Mulder, looking no older than 4 years old, caked in mud, lips pouty as ever with chubby cheeks escaping his winter hat, scarf, and coat. She picks it up to ask Teena the story behind it.

“Ah,” Teena remembers fondly, “November 1964. Fox had just come home from preschool and threw a terrible fit, stomping his little feet in anything he could find. Landed himself straight into a circle of mud,” she laughs warmly.

Scully turns, knee coming up to rest on the couch, to show Mulder, who just returned from the kitchen, the photo in her hands. “Pouty baby Mulder. Not unlike a pouty adult Mulder, I have to say,” she teases.

“Yeah, yeah, you wouldn’t be too happy either, if you were covered in mud,” he retorts with a click of his tongue as he sits on a chair opposite the couch. He begins rifling through some pictures on his own, smiling every so often at the memories.

Seeing photos of Mulder’s father and sister scattered across the table, Scully becomes very aware that Teena has lost her husband and her daughter and realizes that Mulder is all the family she has left. It’s sobering, and it feels rude not to address it. “Teena, I never was able to properly send my condolences, and I realize it’s far too late now, but I’m sorry for your losses.”

Teena pats Scully’s knee. “Oh, thank you, dear. We all have lost something along the way, and I know you have too, but life goes on. And I’m very lucky to still have Fox,” she smiles at him. Mulder drops his head, suddenly shy. “Now, enough of this talk, Dana. I have more pictures to show you.”

She presents a plethora of photos from Mulder’s childhood and providing stories along with it. One was a school photo, and when Scully pointed out his glasses, Teena explained that he wore glasses for two whole years after an optometrist misdiagnosed him when he was eight. Another was Mulder grinning from ear to ear, showing off his braces, but the one that took the cake was him at barely 2 years old, wearing nothing but a diaper, one hand on his hip, the other in the air.

“Oh, Mulder,” she laughs, “I’m sorry you never got to fulfill your childhood dream of becoming a superstar.”

His face goes red with embarrassment, and he scrambles to take it out of her hands, leaping across the room. “Scully, pretend you didn’t see that. Wipe it from your memory right now.” She’s still laughing when he turns to Teena. “I thought we agreed to no embarrassing pictures! This is a nightmare,” he grumbles, flopping down to the closest chair with a hand to his eyes, undoubtedly trying to transport himself away from here.

“Might I remind you, Fox, that I am your mother, and it is my job to embarrass you,” she replies with an even tone, giving Scully a wink. “But it seems as good a time as any to end here.”

“Thank goodness,” Mulder breathes.

Teena rises from the couch to retrieve the photo box from another room, so Scully begins to collect the photos, carefully stacking them in her hands, until she comes across a photo of Mulder, mid-swing at a kid’s t-ball game. “Mulder?”

He groans. “I’m still here? I was hoping to be the first successful case of spontaneous human combustion or teleportation or time traveling,” he replies, now hunched over with his elbows on his knees, hands still covering his eyes.

“You were on the t-ball team?” she asks softly.

“Hm, why?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know,” she murmurs. Scully is taken back to Mulder’s comment this morning, how he imagined her kids playing the same exact sport, and she’s caught off guard by the connection. To take something from his past and imagine it for her future, even in the hypothetical sense, feels very intimate to her.

Why did he say he could see her kids playing t-ball? He could have chosen any other sport. She tries to rationalize that people tend to pass down their childhood interests to their own children, so she could explain it away that way. But if anything, basketball would’ve been the more obvious choice because she knows he plays that now. He has a game at his local gym every Saturday if they’re not away on a case. But finding out he played t-ball feels like she uncovered a secret.

So… would that mean he was referencing _their_ kids in that imagined scenario? Does he think about a future with her like that? He did say that he would settle down at a place like this, for the right person. Was _she_ the right person?

She shakes her head. Impossible. Even more impossible than the Loch Ness Monster living in an estuary sandwiched between New York and Connecticut. _You’re reading too much into it. Don’t flatter yourself, Dana._

Teena returns with a floral box in her hand and takes the stack of photos from Scully’s hand, which brings her back to the present and begins to pack everything else away, seemingly unaware of Scully’s inner turmoil. With photos safely in their box and no longer a threat to his reputation, Mulder returns to his normal self.

“Scully, do you want to get started on dinner?”

“Um, sure, I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Just give me a few minutes to run to the restroom.” Mulder nods and heads to the kitchen as she turns to the spritely woman next to her. “Teena, I had a lot of fun looking at your family photos. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

“Of course. I thought we’d all get a nice chuckle out of it. But, between you and me, I’ve always wanted to share stories of my kids to,” she pauses, clearing her throat, “important people in their lives. But Fox is all I have now, and you were, and are, the only person in his life he’s brought home. So, thank you, Dana,” she confesses, settling a hand on Scully’s arm, “for being there for my son.”

Teena gives her a small smile before walking away, and Scully is left alone in the living room, reeling, once again, at the revelation that maybe she means a lot more to Mulder than she had originally thought.


End file.
